


making waves

by haleofStilesheart



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire, Bisexual Stiles Stilinski, Crushes, Exhibitionism, First Kiss, First Time, Frottage, Getting Together, Hand Jobs, Kissing, Lifeguard Derek, Lifeguard Stiles, M/M, Pining Stiles Stilinski, Pool Sex, Virgin Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2019-01-26 02:47:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12547088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haleofStilesheart/pseuds/haleofStilesheart
Summary: Stiles is no stranger to pining, especially when it comes to Derek Hale.When his gorgeous crush graduates high school, Stiles figures he can move on from his pathetic crush. But things don't work out that way.Not since Derek just so happens to be working at the same public pool where Stiles is volunteering as a lifeguard.





	making waves

**Author's Note:**

  * For [red_crate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/red_crate/gifts).



> I changed their ages a little, just so they were closer in age which made this a lot easier to write! I hope you enjoy it! (Beta'd by my friend Olivia)

Stiles was no stranger to pining.

Way back in kindergarten, he had developed his first crush. Naturally, it was on another boy so it took him years to actually realize that it had actually been a crush.

The other boy had been sweet and kind and as handsome as the princes in the fairy tales his mother used to read him at night. He always shared his toys with Stiles and absolutely adored Reese's cups.

As they got older, Stiles' crush started hanging out with other boys. Bigger boys who didn't get along with Stiles. The ones who pushed him down on the playground and made fun of the moles on his cheeks.

The boy he had a crush on had always remained sweet but he never stopped the others from hurting Stiles. His crush faded away rather quickly.

He had been too young to be too broken up about it. Especially since he had more important things to worry about like his best friend Scott and Sunday morning cartoons and when his mom would bake cookies again.

In third grade, he got his second crush. It was right after his mom died and if he had possessed the cognitive abilities to understand it, he would have realized that was why his crush started in the first place.

He had needed something else to think about besides the fact that his dad was growing more and more fond of the amber liquid in the glass bottle he kept hidden in the pantry. Besides the fact that he and Batman suddenly had something in common.

His crush had blossomed into an unrequited love affair that stretched until the end of eighth grade. It was a ridiculously long stretch of time, one that would never fail to embarrass him.

For years he had mooned and fawned like a pathetic idiot over someone who never deigned to even glance in his direction. Someone who would be more inclined to stick a 'kick me' sign on his back than to so much as return his polite greeting.

Someone who had no qualms about teasing him about his ADHD, his motor mouth, the way he fidgeted when he took his Adderall. Someone who relished in spreading rumors about why he had to go to therapy despite not bothering to remember his name.

Fortunately, he managed to wise up just before his first year of high school. He left his juvenile little infatuation in the dust along with his retainer.

He suddenly had much more important things to worry about like joining the lacrosse team and thinking about college and falling for someone new.

His name was Derek Hale.

He was a year ahead of Stiles, a sophomore in all honors and advanced placement classes. Which meant they had English and history together with Ms. Blake and Mr. Yukimura, respectively.

He was valedictorian of his class, quiz bowl champion and captain of the chess team. The only thing keeping him from falling completely into the stereotypical cliche of a nerd was the fact that he also played on both the basketball and baseball teams.

That and the fact that he was way too gorgeous to be relegated to the ranks of Urkel and Beacon Hills High's resident whipping boy Greenberg.

He was tall and, while skinny, he was athletically built thanks to all of the time he had put into practice for both teams he played on. He had the tanned, swarthy skin befitting of a California native, even if it was northern California.

His thick hair was a deep pitch black, always perfectly gelled and styled enough to make him look like he had just wandered off the set of a hair product commercial. The slight shadow of stubble on his jaw was black too, accentuating his high cheekbones.

His brows were thick, the sexiest pair of woolly caterpillars that Stiles had ever seen in his entire life. Then again, the list of sexy woolly caterpillars he had ever encountered consisted solely of said eyebrows.

Beneath those brows, were the most strikingly beautiful eyes. They were a deep shade of viridian complemented by rivulets of pale gold and splashes of blue-tinged silver, culminating in a kaleidoscopic hazel that was nothing less than breathtaking.

He was the kind of flawless gorgeous that made people stop in their tracks, that made people clamor to be his friend just so they could bask in the glory that was his beauty. Which is why most of the rich, popular kids flocked to him.

It would have been a huge social faux pas for them not to be seen hanging out and eating lunch with Derek. In part, because most pegged him to be the future captain of both teams he played on and in part because of who he was.

The Hale family was hands down the most influential family in Beacon Hills. In all of Beacon County. Hell, in most of the northwest Pacific region.

Their ancestors had been some of the first settlers of the northern part of California, wealthy as far back as their ancestral line went. They had been the ones to start construction on the once minuscule settlement of Beacon Hills, respecting the wishes of the local tribe of Yana Native Americans and building their homes in an otherwise vacant valley surrounded by forested hills.

Throughout the history of their little town, members of the Hale family had always enjoyed positions of great respect and power. Even in modern times.

Derek's mother Talia Hale was the mayor, her husband, Samuel, one of the chairmen of the local college that was considered to be one of the 'Hidden Ivies'. His uncle, his mother's younger brother, was a prominent lawyer, known for his philanthropy and ruthless bulldog behavior in court.

So it was no surprise when Jackson Whittemore started embarrassing himself by practically fawning over Derek in an attempt to recruit him into their little group. No surprise when the popular girls known for flitting around from guy to the next, started crowding around him.

What was a surprise was the fact that Derek seemed completely immune to all of the cajoling and juvenile posturing. That he didn't even seem to care.

He brushed off all of Jackson's attempts at conversation. He told every cheerleader that batted their eyelashes at him that he wasn't interested.

Instead, he spent most of his time with people suited to Stiles' small friend group. Misfits. Kids who were bullied and ridiculed and terrorized.

Erica Reyes was in Stiles' grade, a blonde girl who had mercilessly mocked until she was soft-spoken and painfully shy. She had epilepsy, the condition worsened by the obscene amount of torture she had to endure at the hands of her classmates.

They thought it was funny when she had seizures. Posted videos on YouTube so others could laugh at her pain. Played innocent when Erica reported them to school officials.

Then there was Vernon Boyd who just went by Boyd. In contrast to Erica who had once been as bubbly and outgoing as any kid should be, Boyd had always been an introvert.

He chose his words carefully and never said more than he needed to. Not that he had many people to talk to. Up until high school, he sat alone every day during lunch.

They were Derek's best friends, the only people he could tolerate on a good day. Besides members of his family.

But Stiles was getting ahead of himself, he only knew about that, about all of that, until after he had met Derek. After he had instantaneously fallen down the rabbit hole of another dead-end crush.

The first day of Stiles' freshman year, he had been randomly matched up with a sophomore who would show him around the school and help him out with some basics like how to log on to the computers in the library and what bathrooms were the least disgusting. Of course, the sophomore he had been paired up with had been Derek.

Needless to say, Stiles had followed Derek down the halls like a little stray puppy, like a duckling that had imprinted on the wrong thing. He barely registered anything that Derek said, too busy mooning over him.

Naturally, Derek had been just as bored as any high schooler would be. Stiles' tendency to babble on and on about nothing probably hadn't helped.

By the end of the day, Derek probably had a headache while Stiles had a brand spanking new crush.

Like the other crushes he'd had in his fifteen years of life, his infatuation with Derek was not short-lived. It was quite the opposite, in fact.

For the next three years, Stiles spent nearly every waking moment of his time in school obsessing over Derek in a totally non-creepy way that in no way involved eavesdropping on him and his friends at lunch or  _ coincidentally  _ showing up at the same places as him.

Okay, yeah. It might have been creepy and desperate and ridiculous but he was a dumb high school kid who had no idea what to do with all of his messy feelings.

It wasn't like he had any help with it, either. He was basically left to fend for himself against an onslaught of hormones and his sexuality.

His dad worked insane hours and between managerial paperwork, dealing with his deputies, and working cases and patrols of his own, he didn't have much time to sit down with his son and explain more productive ways of dealing with his feelings. He was barely home long enough to get a few hours of sleep before heading back to the station.

Not that Stiles blamed him. He knew it couldn't be easy being the single dad of an anxiety-riddled, ADHD plagued teenager on top of being the sheriff.

Scott wasn't much help, either. A few months into their sophomore year a new girl, Allison, had moved to town from San Francisco and immediately stolen Scott's heart.

Unlike Stiles, Scott had decided to throw caution to the wind and act on his crush. A few weeks before homecoming he had boldly asked Allison out in front of her new friends, the same ones that still taunted him about his asthma.

Of course, Allison had said yes and agreed to go to the movies with him that Saturday. Then, after days spent convincing her overprotective father to let her go, she went to homecoming with him.

After that, Scott devoted every waking moment of his life to Allison. He spent all his time in class doodling her name in the margin of his notes. He spent lunch eating with her instead of Stiles.

On the rare days that they weren't together after school, Scott would spend hours talking Stiles' year off about how smart and pretty and wonderful she was. And more often than not, Scott pretty much abandoned him in favor getting laid.

It got worse after Scott's asthma cleared up and he made first line on the lacrosse team. After that, he was allowed to sit with the popular kids at lunch, forgiving any and all past slights while Stiles was left to sit alone in the cafeteria.

So, with his dad working long hours only to come home and take refuge in a bottle of Jack and his best friend too busy reveling in the newly discovered pleasures of the flesh, Stiles was left to his own devices. To his own thoughts.

And those thoughts almost always centered on Derek.

Reasonably, he knew that the idea he had of Derek was a highly idealized one. A figment of fiction that just so happened to look like Derek, that his brain fixated on to keep him from going insane.

But all logic and reason flew out the window when he was lonely and miserable in the middle of the night, when all he had was those glorified thoughts of Derek. The ones that he never shared with anyone else, the ones he hoarded like precious jewels.

The pie in the sky dreams about what it would be like to be the one on Derek's arm after the basketball team won a big game, welcomed with open arms to every high school party in town. About what it would be like to not be stuck relegated to some corner of the cafeteria to eat his shitty school lunch alone while Scott and Allison hooked up in empty classrooms.

They were ridiculous, he knew that. But they helped. A little bit.

At the end of his junior year, he watched Derek graduate. Stood at the side of the lacrosse field as Derek delivered his valedictorian speech about looking to the future with hopeful eyes.

When Derek finished his speech and accepted his diploma, the crowd cheered. His friends were graduating, too, and they weren't the least bit shy about letting out raucous whoops and wolf whistles.

The entire Hale family was in attendance, from Laura Hale who was visiting from New York City to her youngest sister, Cora, who was a year behind Stiles. They took up a sizable portion of the bleachers as they cheered and hooted and hollered in the most dignified way possible.

After the rest of the graduating class received their diplomas, smiling all big and bright for their pictures, and chucked their caps in the air, tassels flying, a unified roar of applause drowned out the announcer. And the sound of Stiles' heart breaking a little.

Nothing about his life really changed after Derek graduated and headed off to college. He still went to school, still warmed the bench during lacrosse games, still dealt with Scott's relationship drama when he and Allison broke up every other week.

He aced all of his classes, made valedictorian, got a part-time job at a local convenience store to help him pay for gas. He learned how to bake to keep himself busy, started running after school so he didn't have to go home to an empty house.

He still thought about Derek sometimes, like a long distance crush, when he felt especially lonely or miserable or unlovable. It was cheaper than therapy.

By the time the summer around, bringing with it Stiles' eighteenth birthday, he only thought about Derek occasionally. Maybe once or twice a month as he dedicated himself to all manners of distraction.

He had started looking at colleges, specifically Stanford and Beacon Hills University due to their proximity to his hometown, hoping to get a scholarship so he didn't send himself barreling into debt. In order to get such an academic scholarship, he needed a lot more community service hours.

He already had a few hours under his belt thanks to the lacrosse team's annual fundraising car wash and the few times he had helped Scott and Doctor Deaton raise money for the vet clinic. The times he had volunteered to help with filing at the sheriff's station, had counted, too.

But he still needed more. More hours to show that he was truly committed to making a difference in his close-knit little town.

He figured what would be better than volunteering to be a lifeguard at the local public pool. After finishing a two-week course, he was given a whistle, a uniform, and a schedule.

He worked mostly afternoons, when parents got off work and decided to take their kids to the pool to cool off and other high schoolers wanted to torment him for a few hours. Jackson Whittemore liked to show up to make fun of the fact that middle class people didn't have their own pools.

Apart from Jackson's taunting and the fact that his other bullies occasionally showed up to hassle him, the afternoons weren't so bad. Mornings were his favorite, though.

There was a group of old ladies who frequented the pool in their pastel one-pieces and comically huge sun hats and drugstore sunglasses. Almost every morning they stopped by to dip their feet in the pool.

They would fan themselves with copies of AARP magazine as they delighted in the most recent town gossip. They would titter and giggle like schoolgirls, reliving their youth while lounging around on pool chairs.

Stiles had immediately befriended them on his first morning shift, occasionally taking a few minutes each day to sit with them and indulge them in their matchmaking attempts. Apparently, Edith had a grandson who would absolutely  _ adore  _ Stiles, though he was a few years older than the soon to be high school senior.

Shortly after the old women left, retiring for the day and returning to their condominium a few blocks away, there were swim classes. They were mostly for little kids, the majority between the ages of six and ten, who adored the lessons.

That was largely due to the fact that the instructor, another lifeguard, was amazing and funny and had the patience of a saint even while dealing with a gaggle of a dozen and a half little kids. Said instructor was none other than Derek Hale who apparently returned to Beacon Hills for the summer and volunteered at the pool.

Because of course, he did. Of course, Derek had to go and be a good Samaritan who was wonderful with kids and charmed the socks off their parents all while looking beyond amazing in nothing but a pair of red swim trunks.

Life had always had a way of coming back around to bite Stiles in the ass. He didn't know if it was karma or poetic justice or dramatic irony or something else, but it always happened. Like clockwork.

So, naturally, he was forced to work alongside the guy he had been pining over for years, the same guy who had never even known he existed, the same guy that Stiles had jerked off to thoughts of. Which, yeah, kind of awkward when he had to see the guy three mornings a week.

But as horrified as he was when he learned that he would be working with Derek, worried that he would accidentally say or do something to reveal his huge embarrassing crush, things didn't turn out so bad.

He and Derek didn't interact all that much in the mornings, Derek too busy making sure no little kids drowned in spite of their life jackets and floaties while Stiles was preoccupied with his own version of the Golden Girls and other early morning pool patrons.

But on the rare times they  _ did  _ talk, usually at the end of their shift as they gathered their things in the locker room, it was friendly and casual. Stiles would ask Derek about school and Derek would ask Stiles about the Sheriff.

Which meant that Derek  _ did  _ know who Stiles was. Unfortunately, it also meant that Stiles had fallen into the old trap of living in his father's shadow, known only as the sheriff's son.

In a small town like Beacon Hills, everyone knew who he was with a name like Stilinski. Even if it wasn't as bad as his first name, a Polish monstrosity that had brought him no small amount of ruthless teasing back in grade school.

Anyhow, he and Derek's conversations were usually amiable apart from the one time they had gotten into a very heated argument about Batman. Stiles had ranted and raved for a good fifteen minutes until Derek had conceded that Batman was indeed a superhero.

Even then, it had sparked an in-depth conversation about comic superheroes that had revealed Derek's own love for all things DC. Which had only made Stiles' pathetic crush increase tenfold.

They soon fell into a routine that continued well into the summer, into August only a short few weeks before school, for both Stiles and Derek. In the mornings, if they worked the same shift, they would greet each other at the front gate before starting their shift.

Stiles would climb up the lifeguard tower and start his watch, waving at Edith and her octogenarian posse, while Derek waited for his first class of the day to arrive. When their breaks rolled around, usually about the same time, they would eat lunch together under one of the pool umbrellas.

Derek always teased Stiles about how much food a scrawny like him could put away. Despite the teasing, Stiles always shared his Reese's with Derek, something he usually only did with his dad or Scott. That's how far gone he was on Derek.

Their routine was perfect. Then it changed in the middle of August.

The pool had already closed for the day, Stiles working the afternoon shift in addition to the morning shift thanks to the fact that Greenberg had called out. Apparently, he had some doctor's appointment a few towns over that he couldn't move unless he wanted to incur a ridiculous rescheduling fee.

Stiles hadn't minded picking up the additional hours, more than willing to hang out at the pool until closing time at sundown. Especially since it meant that he had the pool all to himself after that.

After herding the last stragglers out and waving goodbye to Derek who had worked the afternoon shift too, Stiles locked up the front gate and set about cleaning up. After picking up trash, mostly popsicle sticks and empty soda cans, and taking a pair of flip flops and a Dora the Explorer towel to the lost and found bin, he decided to indulge in some pool time himself.

With no one else around and the blanket of the dark night sky to shield him, Stiles felt comfortable enough to yank his white lifeguard tank top off. As a one hundred and forty seven pound scrawny loser, Stiles wasn't the most confident guy in Beacon Hills.

Logically, he knew that he wasn't exactly ugly but he wasn't movie star gorgeous like Derek or a Calvin Klein underwear model like Jackson. He was just Stiles.

His arms had enough muscle to not make him too embarrassed to wear a tank top but his chest and abdomen were devoid of very much muscle definition. He had a slight shadow of abs, bisected by a trail of hair beneath his belly button, but it paled in comparison to most people he saw at the pool on a daily basis.

But with no one else around, he didn't really care. It had been a hot day, sweat sticking to his skin and dampening his hair all day, and all he wanted was a quick lap or so around the pool to cool himself off.

It was his last day of work for the week, a long three day weekend stretched out in front of him. He didn't have any plans beyond lying in bed, basking in the glory of air conditioning while he caught up on Netflix.

So what better way to end his last day of work for the week than a dip in the pool?

Stripped down to his red swim trunks with a towel draped over a nearby pool chair, Stiles started down the steps into the pool. The cold water lapped at his bare calves, sending a shiver up his spine.

He waded deeper into the pool, the cool water a soothing respite from the heat of the day. He let out a soft sigh as he continued his descent into the deep end.

Goosebumps dotted his arms as he progressed, water rising to his chest. Like coming home after a long day at work and falling into bed, the water seemed to massage every muscle in his body, loosening knots and easing tension.

He waited until his body acclimated to the temperature of the water before he sucked in a deep breath and ducked underwater. The cold water was a welcome shock as it washed over him, making him bark out a joyous laugh when he resurfaced, kicking his legs to propel himself further into the deep end.

He floated on his back for awhile, starfished out the way he did when he slept, all of his limbs having minds of their own. As he bobbed on the surface of the water, he gazed up at the stars, bright and radiant over the sleepy little town, no light pollution to obstruct his view of them.

After a few long minutes of staring at the sky, he slipped back underwater, swimming over to the shallow end. Popping his head out of the water, shaking his head he flicked droplets of water out of his hair, he stood.

He set his arms on the edge of the pool, smiling to himself as he listened to the serenade of crickets and the distant hoot of a spotted owl nesting in the preserve. The sounds of the night were calm and serene, like a soft lullaby designed to lure him to sleep right then and there.

But then he heard another sound. One that shouldn't exist. Because he was alone and he had locked the front gate and put up the closed sign yet the sound of splashing, of someone diving into the pool, echoed in the night.

Stiles froze, tensing up as his hands instinctively curled into fists. He swallowed heavily when he heard someone break the surface of the water, readying himself for a fight as the list of disturbing possibilities raced through his head.

He tried to control his breathing, tried not to let any of his nerves show, tried to remember every self defense move his dad and Deputy Graeme had taught him over the years. Steeling himself, he whipped around to face whoever was trespassing, cocking his arm to deliver a nose-breaking punch.

Fortunately, he managed to restrain himself before his knuckles met hard bone and cartilage when he saw who it was.

"Derek!" He hissed, dropping his arms with a soft sloshing sound. Splashing Derek with a spray of cold water, he growled, "What the hell?! You scared the shit out of me!"

Derek didn't seem fazed at all by Stiles' censure. He threw his head back with a laugh, flashing his ridiculous bunny teeth at Stiles.

Going with a different tactic, Stiles abandoned the splashes and outright punched Derek in the arm. But Derek just continued laughing as he rubbed at the spot on his bicep where Stiles had hit him.

"God, you are such an asshole!" Stiles accused, careful to keep his voice down. "I thought you left already!"

"I know," Derek returned, smirking roguishly like a modern day, shirtless Han Solo. And wow, how did Stiles not notice that earlier?

Sure enough, Derek was half naked, only wearing his lifeguard swim trunks and that stupid, infuriatingly gorgeous smile of his. But while any other time, Stiles would have just loved to watch the way drops of water slowly crawled down the hard planes of Derek's ridiculous six pack, the mere sight only made him more conscious of the fact that he, too, was shirtless.

He crossed his arms over his chest, hunching his shoulders in a fruitless bid to hide his bare chest. It didn't work all that well but it made him feel a little bit better.

"What are you doing here, dude?" Stiles demanded sternly, frowning at the older boy. He could feel his face flush a blotchy red as Derek took a few steps closer until he was encroaching on Stiles' personal space.

Shrugging nonchalantly, Derek ran a hand through his hair, brushing dark locks of hair off his forehead. Stiles' eyes were riveted to the drops of water in Derek's thick stubble, a new addition to his handsome face that somehow made him even more attractive.

His eyes snapped to Derek's mouth as he casually announced, "Summer's almost over."

"No shit, Sherlock," Stiles quipped, rolling his eyes. Did Derek seriously scare the living daylights out of him just to make an obvious statement?

"Summer's almost over," Derek repeated, closing the gap between them even further, making Stiles jolt when he laid his hands on Stiles' hips. He slid his hands up Stiles' sides, palms warm and wet, until he was cupping Stiles' face as he softly murmured, "And I don't want it to before I do this."

Stiles didn't have time to ask Derek what he meant. He didn't have time to react, to question the fact that Derek was gently cradling his face, because a moment later Derek's lips were on his and he no longer cared about anything else.

Stiles had never been kissed before. At least, not like this.

His first kiss had been a unreciprocated lip lock with an old friend of his who had been drunk at the time and somewhat desperate to lose her virginity. She had practically jumped him the second he walked into her house for her birthday.

As much as he too would have loved to get rid of his annoying virginity, he had turned down Heather's admittedly tempting offer of sex in her basement where her parents kept an obscene amount of wine. He wasn't going to take advantage of a drunk person, especially since she had never shown any romantic or sexual interest in him before.

A few days later, after her hangover from hell cleared up, she had called him to thank him. After apologizing for the umpteenth time about being a drunken idiot, she had thanked him for his present.

His second kiss had been a little better. He had met a cute girl at the local gay club,  _ the Jungle, _ that he had snuck into with the help of a twenty dollar tip and a fake ID.

She had been covered in glow in the dark body paint and phosphorescent makeup that left glowing orange-ish hot pink marks on his lips after their kiss. She had helped him get more comfortable with his bisexuality, encouraging him to dance with a few guys at the club.

But, as nice as his first two kisses had been apart from the cheap vodka on Heather's breath, they couldn't hold a candle to the one Derek planted on him.

Derek touched him as though he already knew every valley and plane of Stiles' body, his touches firm and self-assured while gentle and sweet. His lips were warm and wet, confident and insistent as he poured every ounce of himself into the kiss.

Stiles' response was clumsy, like everything else he did. He hurried to return the kiss lest Derek decide that it wasn't all that much fun kissing a statue, tilting his head a bit as he moved his lips against Derek's.

He dripped his arms in favor of wrapping them around Derek's broad shoulders, fingertips digging into the thick muscles of his back. His hands were still wet, fingers faltering a few times before he managed to anchor himself to Derek.

As Stiles enthusiastically returned the kiss, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically, Derek shifted his hands back down to Stiles' hips. He ran his thumb over Stiles' hip bones where they peeked up over the waistband of his swim trunks.

Reluctantly, Stiles broke the kiss in order to breathe. Licking his lips, he rested his forehead against Derek's, not wanting to move an inch away.

Derek seemed to share the sentiment, giving Stiles' hips a reassuring squeeze as his lips quirked up into a crooked smirk. It was so cute that Stiles just had to lean in and initiate a kiss of his own.

It quickly turned heated. Derek tightened his grip on Stiles' hips as he ran the tip of his tongue along the seam of Stiles' lips, a teasing glide over the plump Cupid's bow.

Stiles was more than willing to part his lips for Derek, letting out a tiny, involuntary moan. It seemed to spark something in Derek, who eagerly slipped his tongue into Stiles' mouth, because the next thing he knew, he was being hoisted up and set on the edge of the pool.

Dragging his hands down Stiles' legs, Derek set them on Stiles' knees to part his legs a little more, enough so that he could situate himself between them. The few inches he had on Stiles were rendered moot thanks to the height boost of Stiles' new position, leaving them perfectly eye to eye.

Not that either of them really noticed. They were too busy clutching at each other and panting like they had just run a mile, after only two kisses.

It was Derek who broke the second kiss, dipping his head so he could start pressing scorchingly hot kisses to the side of Stiles' neck. Goosebumps erupted over his arms for a completely different reason, the heat of Derek's open-mouthed kisses making him curl his toes.

His entire curled when he realized that Derek had moved one hand to start deftly undoing the drawstrings of Stiles' bathing suit, untying the knot with his eyes closed and his other hand fisted in the short locks at the back of Stiles' head. A wounded sound that could only be considered a full fledged fucking  _ whimper  _ crawled its way out of his throat when Derek reached into his shorts and wrapped a hand around his cock.

Derek's warm breath wafted over the side of Stiles' throat as he chuckled darkly, clearly very proud of himself. Dragging his teeth over a pulsing tendon in Stiles' neck, he playfully tsked, "Shh. Gotta be quiet, babe. Don't want anyone to catch the sheriff's son fooling around in the public pool, right?"

Stiles bit his lip so hard he was surprised he didn't taste any blood. Scrabbling at Derek's shoulders, he rocked his hips up, fucking up into the tight, water-slick heat of Derek's fist, desperate for more friction.

Derek didn't disappoint. He jerked Stiles off with sure, steady strokes as he caught Stiles' lips in another kiss, brushing his thumb over the head of his cock to smear precum down the shaft.

It was so much better than Stiles' own hand, the only other sexual partner he had ever had. Derek's hands were rougher, his fingers not as long as Stiles' but thicker, and clearly very skilled.

Stiles practically whined when he managed to rip his lips away from Derek's to pepper frantic kisses over his stubbled. He blindly pawed at the front of Derek's bathing suit, grumbling in frustration when he felt the sizable, staining bulge in Derek's suit but couldn't untie the stupid things.

"You too, you too, you too," Stiles babbled, still tugging at Derek's waistband even as the older boy took mercy on him and started undoing his trunks with his free hand. Once the drawstrings were loose, Stiles unceremoniously yanked Derek's bathing suit down just past his ass.

He groaned aloud when he snuck a peek at Derek's cock, wondering if a more beautiful dick had ever existed. But rather than just stare slack-jawed and wide-eyed, Stiles reached out a hand to wrap it around the thick cock that seemed to throb in empathetic gratitude for the touch.

They jerked each other off in tandem, Stiles occasionally faltering thanks to his overeagerness and apologizing under his breath between heated kisses. True to form, he couldn't shut up to save his life but as much as the very real possibility of his own dad arresting him for indecent exposure terrified him, he would be damned if he cut things short.

Instead, he hooked his legs around the back of Derek's thighs, urging him closer until they could rut against each other. Their cocks slid against one another in a wet mess of water and precum and spit thanks to a trick Stiles had learned from watching porn.

Hips gradually losing their rhythm until he was erratically thrusting his cock against Derek's, water sloshing around them, Stiles tipped his head back and let out a groan. With his fingers digging into the firm tightness of Derek's amazing ass, he urgently prattled, "Come on, come on, come on..."

Not five seconds later, Stiles' hold body seized and he let out a low, drawn-out groan as he came. Derek followed suit shortly after, panting out his release against Stiles' shoulder.

Fortunately, neither of them heard police sirens as they rinsed off their lower bellies with a few splashes of cold water and tucked themselves back into their bathing suits. Stiles spared a moment to feel bad for the pool cleaner who would be dealing with the aftermath of their little tryst before lying back on the concrete decking.

Derek did the same, casually throwing an arm around Stiles' torso and snuggling in close, his stubbled cheek on Stiles' shoulder. The same shoulder that started to shake as Stiles dissolved into a fit of giggling.

When Derek cocked a brow, huffing an incredulous laugh of his own, Stiles squeaked, "God, community service kicks ass!


End file.
